


Stranded

by Ingol



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disconnected from the world at large, Gen, Ghosts, Lots of time skips, POV Second Person, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Somewhat, Time Travel, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingol/pseuds/Ingol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where someone from our world is reborn... sort of.<br/>Does it count as being reborn when you are clearly a ghost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_…!_

_What…?_

Your eyes open.

That was a terrifyingly realistic nightmare.

You think and look around, using the chance to stretch, awful-sounding cracks made from the movement.

It was a forest.

_But I live in a city._

You shake off the very weird feeling that something is terribly wrong, and instead, reach out to grab a passerby who had been very content in ignoring you.

Your hand passes through his shoulder.

You stand there in shock as the passerby shudders, looks around, and continues on his merry way.

You look at your hand dumbly.

What just happened?

 

* * *

You walk around aimlessly. You find that though you can interact with nature, and other inanimate objects, animals and humans cannot be touched.

To the humans, you are like a ghost, and to the animals, you are like an essence hovering above them uncomfortably.

A ghost, you think, a wry smile twisting your lips, not that anyone could see.

 _Perhaps I had died after all._ You clamp your hands together, and moved on merrily, floating just above the grass, creating a slight breeze that ruffled them.

 

* * *

 

Complete ignorance and loneliness can take its toll, even on a dead being. You find yourself losing sight of time. Seasons pass by in the blink of an eye, and to what seemed like a year to you, the passerby that you had first met had already greyed and died.

You wander around, already committed to the belief that you would be stuck here haunting this lonely little planet, when everything changes.

Someone sees you.

A horned little boy with strange eyes, by the name of Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki.

You cannot help but think that that name sounds oddly familiar.

The boy bothers you ever so often, more so when he finds out that no one else can see you, no one except for him and his little brother.

 

* * *

“Nee-chan, tell us another story?” The little boy asks, purple-rimmed eyes looking up at you pleadingly. Beside him was his brother, who he had dragged along.

“Tell me, do you know of the goddess in the moon?” You ask, recalling all the legends that you had heard once.

“What’s ‘moon’?” It was Hamura who eventually asked after shared glances of adorable confusion.

You blink, and glance upwards into the night sky. Surely these little boys should have known… But there was no crescent, no semi-circle, no fully-round moon.

“It must be hidden behind the clouds.” You mutter to yourself and decided to change the topic.

“Never mind that, do you know of dragons?”

The boys nod in affirmative, and you smile.

“Once upon a time…” You begin your tale, ignoring the pale-haired woman who seemed to look right through you.

You get the feeling that she can hear you, from the slight wonder-struck smile on her face, but she evidently cannot see your movements.

You wonder, but you don’t act.

 

* * *

 

Time passes fast once more. You watch the little boys whom you told stories to grow up. You watch Hamura fall in love with a poor village girl. You give him advice on how to impress females, while Hagoromo laughs at the love-struck fool.

You vaguely remember the etiquette from your last life, but your last life was gone from your reach.

One day, the moon appears. You cannot help but wonder, that the light, the shining beacon that had been missing for so long, had appeared in full. It was not normal. It was unnatural.

The white-haired princess that you never took much notice of didn’t return. Your little boys did.

You listen as they cried to you about their mother, how she had consumed the God-fruit. You frown as you wonder, hadn’t you entered this world around then? But it had been centuries, if not millennia, so you let it slide, despite the nervous ticking of your dead mind.

You shed tears as Hamura dies, you smile for Hagoromo when he marries to a lovely wife.

Those were the first two beings to ever see you. You wonder if you can see them in the afterlife.

But this is the afterlife. You tell yourself, floating around the giant tailed animals. You sit on the muzzle of the fox-like creature. It shakes its head and sneezes.

You can touch them, and they can hear and see you as well.

It is a peaceful existence.

Hagoromo’s sons, Asura and Indra, were fighting again, you note, woken up from your peaceful sleep by the clashing of metal.

Or perhaps it is sparring? You think, but float towards them anyway. You watch as Indra stabbed forwards, pausing when the sword drew a small trickle of blood.

“Magnificent.” You comment.

Indra and Asura smile, but they cannot see you.

“Thank you.” They chorus, facing the doorway where you had stepped away from.

“Indra, your swordsmanship is as good as ever, and Asura, you are improving as well.”

They beam, accepting your words for what they were.

They could never see you, but you watched them grow up, amazing them with little feats of ‘magic’, floating books too high for them to reach downwards, reading and turning pages along with them. You were their teacher, their surrogate god-parent, they respect you and hold you in awe. You wonder how long it would take before they start to rebel. Indra was fourteen now, Asura thirteen.

 

* * *

“I shall be travelling around the world. Do not wait for me.” You tell Asura and Indra, giving the nine giant beasts pets on the head.

Hagoromo nods to you and bids you farewell. You pretend not to notice the dampening of his eyes.

You know that it might take centuries before you return to this particular area, centuries after Hagoromo’s death. But your instinct tugs at you; you want to investigate where you had appeared, why you had come here.

 

* * *

Your previous world taught you about the world, about biology, chemistry, physics, mathematics, and more. The knowledge, all but dimmed by time and death, though faded, were still there, instinctive at the back of your mind.

“Why does our heart beat?” You hear one person say.

“Because we have a natural pacemaker. It allows the heart to pump blood all over our body, to get rid of waste materials and to transport nutrients and oxygen to our other cells.” You say, but you are ignored.

“Because we are made that way.” The other man says. You sigh and roll our eyes at the idiocy of it.

You cannot help yourself; your world from before was focused on knowledge. You had to learn, were forced to learn, even if you didn’t want to. Perhaps it was a good thing now. The details had faded, but the general knowledge remained. You remember how toxins spread, how your body gets rid of sickness. You glare at healers who use leeches to suck blood out of sick patients, only for those patients to die from blood loss and infection.

 

* * *

Time passes. You still travel the world.

Then you reach a point where the moon is closest to the earth, and you know that you have reached ‘home’ once more.

No one greets you.

You stand in front of a battlefield, where it is riddled with the bodies of men and small boys. You float higher, up into the air and away from the bloodied ground.

“What have they done?” You ask yourself, wondering if Indra, Asura, or even Hagoromo were still here.

They weren’t.

There were no small shy smiles, no arrogant, childish boasting. No ‘Welcome home Nee-chan!’, no cries of laughter. There were no greetings aimed wrongly at hallways, no sound of the biju siblings brawling.

There was no one left but the ruins of what had to be Hagoromo’s- your home, littered with the bodies of the dead.

You float there, and descended to stand on the root of a giant tree stump. This was where you had first met Hagoromo, this was where you had been pulled into the light just so that you could look after childish children.

Gone.

You swallow and wail, your banshee cry unheard. You float around the tree trunk, dash into the ruins of the emptied house. Everything had been burnt to ashes.

There was simply nothing left.

 

* * *

 _“Nee-chan, did I do the right thing?” Hagoromo asks himself after he had named Asura his successor. Asura and Indra’s once strong bond had been severed._  
_They fought more than ever, and their battles only grew even more ruthless._  
_“What would you have done?” He asks once more with his dying breath as he left the world, the nine biju bowing their heads in tandem and scattering to the different parts of the world._


	2. Chapter 2

You wander around just like always, feeling even emptier inside. You snap twigs and throw rocks at absolutely nothing in particular.

You watch the world change.

Humans were always a horrid bunch. You wonder if you are still human. You pass through a man and he shivers. Apparently not.

You walk the world, aimlessly wandering. Then, you meet someone you haven’t seen for centuries.

“Kurama?” You ask, and pat the giant fox on the muzzle. A huge eye cracks open.

“Sister.” He greets in a gravelly voice, more out of respect for the one he called his father than anything else.

“What happened to you and your siblings? What happened to Hagoromo, Asura and Indra?”

The bijuu stares at you.

“You were gone for a long time. Father died of old age. Asura and Indra fought each other to a standstill.”

You climb onto the fox’s head. He doesn’t protest, and instead half-rises from the slumbering posture that he had been in.

“Do you think I should have stayed?”

The fox’s silence was telling enough. Bijuu couldn’t lie, but they also had the right to not answer.

“I am a ghost, Kurama. And the first person to ever see me has died even though I’m still alive and young. Sometimes death just isn’t worth it.” You say, and the fox listens. Truly listens, because for all his pride, you are older and more knowledgeable about the world’s finer workings than he is.

“May I stay with you for a while?” You ask after telling him of the sights that you’ve seen.

“Whatever.” The fox dismisses, but you hear the slightly fond acceptance in his voice. You lie on his back, and enjoy the comfortable fur that envelops you. It’s been a while since you felt warmth.

You close your eyes to the outside world.

 

* * *

 

You wake not long after.

“How much time has passed, Kurama?” You ask.

“Few moons.” He says. You take that to mean a few months.

“I’m going to explore.” You declare, and pause when you are about to slide off the fox’s tail. “You don’t happen to know the state of the world now, do you?”

“War.” He says, and that single word is enough.

“…Hagoromo’s home was destroyed. Not much was left.”

“Asura and Indra.” He says matter-of-factly.

“I thought I taught them better than that.” You sigh, wistful of the two boys who you helped raise.

“I’ll be back.”

Kurama doesn’t reply, and you feel that somehow, you failed them.

 

* * *

 

“Who are you?” Someone demands.

You feel like that statement was directed at you, but it wasn’t possible. Only Hagoromo, Hamura and the bijuu could see you.

“I can hear you breathe!” You pause. Unless they were like Indra and Asura.

“You can hear me?”

“Of course! Where are you?” You turn around and see a short brunet.

You pluck a leaf off a tree and wave it in front of the boy’s face.

“Right here.”

He pales and sticks a hand through you.

“W-What… G-G-Ghost!” He stammers and falls onto the ground in a hurry to get as far away from you as possible.

“I’m a friendly ghost. Unless you make me angry.” You say and are amused by the boy’s immediate attempts to be cordial.

“What’s your name?”

“Hashirama.” The boy replies instantly, face still ashen. You hum as you take in his appearance. He has the physique of a trained fighter despite being a child, so he has to be from one of those shinobi clans. His name is oh-so familiar, but you can’t remember why.

“You’re so small.” You sigh.

“I’ll grow!” He protests weakly.

“You can’t see me, can you?” You ask.

“No?” He half-says-half-asks.

“I thought not. You’re just like Hagoromo’s sons then.”

“Hagoromo?”

“You don’t know his name?” You are surprised. Hagoromo changed the world, surely his name would be wide-spread?

“No.” The boy blinks at where you were even though you had already floated to his side.

“Would you like to hear a story then?” You offer, because it has been centuries since you last told a story, and you are afraid of losing the memory of them, not when they had delighted your loved ones so.

“Okay.”

“This is a story about the moon…”

You tell the story as you remember it, and wait for the child’s comments.

He looks awed, but there’s a glimmer of doubt.

“But the Sage of Six Paths created the moon.” He protests, forgetting his fear of ghosts.

“It’s just a story.” You sigh. “Besides, I don’t know who this Sage is, but Hagoromo and Hamura were the ones to create the moon.”

“Who are they?”

“Brothers. They sealed their mother into the moon because she went crazy.” You summarise.

“But…” The boy pauses and looks like he had an epiphany. “The Sage of Six Paths created chakra.”

“No, that was all Hagoromo's...” You trail off. “Oh. So Hagoromo is the Sage.” You wonder why you hadn’t realised that before.

“You knew the Sage of Six Paths?” The boy jumps up to his feet and asks excitedly.

“Knew? I babysat him. Both of them could see me.” You lie on the grass and stare up at the canvas of leaves.

“So you know how to get really powerful?” You give the boy a glance out of the corner of your eye.

“Have demon blood in you.” You deadpan.

The boy collapses onto the ground, mumbling about ‘unfairness’ and ‘stingy’.

“Really, you’re better off asking the biju siblings.”

“Biju siblings?” The boy pales again.

“Yeah. Hagoromo raised them.” You say.

“Huh, buh, what…” The boy trips over his own words.

“You didn’t know?”

“That’s all history from thousands of years ago.”

“It’s been that long? Feels like centuries.” You blink, having not expected that. Then again, what was time to an immortal?

“My ride’s here. Probably won’t see you again kid. Take care.” You say when you hear the irritated roar of Kurama.

The kid looks like he wants to faint.

 

* * *

 

“Did you get into a fight?” You ask. Kurama lowers his muzzle to let you climb on.

“Just idiotic humans.” He scoffs and takes off. You roll down from his furry head to his back.

“I’m going to sleep again. Wake me when one of your siblings appear or when you need help.”

 

* * *

 

The sensation of falling wakes you.

You fall and impact hard on the ground.

You shake your head and glance around you.

A redheaded beauty looks you in the eye.

“Tell me your name.” She commands.

“Who are you?” You instinctively reply, angered that whatever semblance of peace you had was interrupted.

“I asked you a question and you shall reply.”

“And I am an immortal being!” You snap back, because you were dead and was after all, not above being childish.

The redhead glares and whips out a hand to grab you. You jump back. You absently wonder where Kurama went.

“Where’s Ku-Kyuubi?” You ask bluntly.

“I sealed him.” She says proudly.

“Mito-sama, who are you talking to?” A gray-haired man asks.

The redhead freezes, and turns wide eyes to you.

She appears to want to demand more, but you are angry, something that you thought you couldn’t be. It didn’t matter to you that she can see you.

How dare she seal away a child that you practically raised?

How dare she steal your companion?

You let your feet lift off the ground, floating above the grass.

“How dare you…” You hiss. You tackle the redhead to the ground, and are surprised when the blow actually connects. The redhead jumps up quickly and throws something sharp at you. You let yourself fade some more, and the kunai passes through.

Mito gasps, and covers her mouth with a hand.

“Mito-sama?” The man asks again, and her entourage are surrounding her in a circle, ready to attack.

You scoff and deliberately pass a hand through one of them. The man looks around but remains oblivious to my presence.

“The Kyuubi could see me. I suppose since you sealed him in you, you have the curse of seeing me as well.” You say blankly.

She grits her teeth but says no more.

“Nothing. Just an annoying fly.” She dismisses.

You float higher until you are partly obscured by clouds and follow them. Damned if you were going to let her get off scot-free with sealing your (sort-of) friend/ child.

“Leave.” The redhead hisses. You ignore her and lounge on the bed, becoming more solid.

“Can’t hurt a ghost darling. Prayers and exorcism don’t work. I tried.” You wink exaggeratedly and wave, a mockery of imitation.

Her face reddens.

“What’s done cannot be undone. The Kyuubi is sealed and I now control it. Now leave!”

“Him. The Kyuubi is a ‘him’. And here I thought princesses were supposed to be kind to all life.” You muse, trying to act the part of a spoilt brat as well as you can.

The redhead twitches and slams a seal paper at you. You fly to avoid it. The next one tags you on the arm. You scoff and rip it off.

“These seals work on beings with chakra. I’m dead.”

“How do you even know?”

“These look like what Hamura worked on.” True.

“Hamura?” Mito failed to hide her curiosity.

“The Sage’s- No wait, why am I even telling you this?”

“I order you to tell me!”

“Not until you release the Kyuubi.”

“I can’t release it! If I do, I’ll die!” The redhead all but screams.

“You are a child.” You say.

“I am not!” Mito looks like she wants to stamp her feet, but refrains.

“You are a child and you are terrified of me and the being within you.”

“I-I am not!”

You stare at her for a while.

“When you die, you will not reseal Kyuubi.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“All the history that’s safe to know. I raised the Sage of Six Paths.” Mito visibly perked up.

“Deal!” She immediately says.

 

* * *

 

“-and Hamura, the poor boy, fell in love with a village girl.” You continue, deliberately ignoring Mito’s twitching right eye.

“Stop fooling with me!” She yells and throws a brush that passes over your shoulder.

“I’m not. You wanted to know about his life.”

“Not like that!”

“Hagoromo was part demon, not a god. He was a boy in every possibly way who had to grow into a man. You wanted to hear about him, and I am telling you about the real him.” You say fiercely. You feel a thrum of appreciation coming from inside Mito and you know that Kurama is listening and is very amused.

Mito looked somewhat chastised.

“You don’t understand, Mito. Hagoromo was forced to grow up into a warrior when he was supposed to be fooling around with people his age. Hagoromo is not a saint. He made mistakes, and he needed others to tell him where he went wrong. All that power that the Sage of Six Paths supposedly has, all those legends, they’re not false, but they’re not entirely true. Hagoromo didn’t create the moon, he sealed his mother away with the help of his brother.  
Do you know how much that hurt the both of them? Yes, Kaguya wasn’t the best mother in the world. She was cold, but she was theirs, and they loved her. The legends tell of these amazing feats, but they never said that Hagoromo lost so much that day.” Mito sagged into her chair, and looked down.


	3. Chapter 3

Mito grows on you, though there is a lingering resentment that you feel towards her.

You are surprised by the emotion itself, but shrug it away carelessly after.

“I am to be engaged to the Senju’s clan heir.” Mito announces as soon as she has closed the door.

“And?” You ask, flipping through the book of seals. _Familiar, familiar, they’re all so familiar, but why can’t I remember?_

Conflict thrums through you, and a haze clouds your vision for a few moments. You feel disorientated. It’s been a while since you’ve felt like that.

“…Some thrice-damned stranger because of this stupid war!” Mito continues to rant, despite it being unladylike. You suppose that part of it is your fault.

You don’t reply. For all the horrid sights that you’ve seen, not once have you seen a war for what it was. _I am a ghost, what does it matter?_ The bitter thought stays treacherous in your mind, and you wash it away with memories of storytelling with Hagoromo and Hamura as children, their mother sitting by them with that odd smile of hers.

Being a child was often the best memory. The moment they grew up was the moment everything changed. _What is ignorance to reality?_ You ask yourself, and can’t quite answer.

“Well?” Mito demands, hands on her hips, and it is then that you realise that she had been talking to you.

“Sometimes, the only thing you can do is to deal with it.” You say after a moment of hesitance.

“But it’s not fair!” Mito protests.

“Life isn’t fair. Humans aren’t the fair sort. Even the one who you held as a god wasn’t the fair sort. Hagoromo was selfish.” _And so am I._ You think but don’t say.

You find yourself liking Mito, but the ones who you’ll always cling to will be Hagormo and Hamura. Because they were yours from the very beginning.

You regret living. But you weren’t even alive, now were you?

The feeling of déjà vu doesn’t leave you. _It never does_.

 

* * *

 

You sit on the table, wondering if anyone would miss you snagging bits of food off the banquet table. You haven’t tried eating yet, you never had to. But you still reach out a hand to snag a fancy-looking piece of bread and stuff it in your mouth.

You can taste and the food is delightfully tangy on your tongue. You swallow and decide that eating was one of the best decisions you have ever made.

Mito catches your eye a distance away and sticks her tongue out when no one else is looking.

You wave back. Her wedding is today. She is going to be married to one ‘Senju Hashirama’. You frown slightly and wonder where you’ve heard that name from.

A brown-haired boy stalks out. _Oh_.

You remember sitting under the forest canopy and telling a boy so much like Asura stories from when you were alive.

You float closer and stand in the midst of the crowd.

Mito manages a small smile just for you and you feel a tinge of pride. You push it down though, because it feels too much like you are betraying Kurama.

You are a ghost. You are immortal. But so is Kurama. You are selfish. You don’t want to lose him.

Sometimes you think you cling too much to the past.

But you are dead, and all that you have are fading memories that you don’t want to forget.

 

* * *

 

You stand in Mito’s room and watch as the brunet sits down next to Mito almost awkwardly.

“Hello.” You say just for the sake of wanting to say something. The brunet stiffens and looks around.

“Do you hear that?” He asks Mito.

Mito blinks slowly at him and does not reply, instead, turning to you.

“Hashi…rama?” You half-ask, half-state.

“You’re the ghost from before! I mean, you can hear her right?” He turns to Mito with wide eyes.

Mito nods, still in a daze.

“How?” Is the first word out of her mouth. You are reminded of the self-entitled girl she had once been.

“What made you think that I know?” You ask cryptically.

 

* * *

 

You find that you get along well with Hashirama, though the occasional nights you spend looking up at the stars alone reminds you of Kurama. You hate it, but there is nothing you can do.

Not yet.

“Nee-chan, are you well?” The brunet settles down on the grass plain, a few metres away.

“I’m fine.” You say after a pause, and watch with a little amusement as he colours and shifts closer.

“What are you doing?” A man jumps from a tree and carefully stalks into the clearing.

The messy black-haired man, Madara, as Hashirama calls him, seems to be able to hear you at times, and seems to be ignorant of your existence at the next. You wonder if he hears you only sometimes, but dismiss it- because you don’t really care.

“Spending time talking to ghosts.” Hashirama says.

“Stop being an idiot.” The other man snaps and sits down with a strange-but-false regal air.

“I’m not!” Hashirama pouts but does not say anymore. You stay silent, the man reminding you inexplicably of Indra, but the instincts that you did not know that you had stopped you from speaking up. It wasn’t worth it, you tell yourself. _It never is_.

You look across the grassy plain and imagine an endless field of wild flowers, sitting on a tree trunk with two boys listening as legends from another life were told.

Was it worth it? All the pain after that short moment of happiness? If someone asked you that… _I don’t know_. That would be your answer.

The black-haired man leaves, and you feel like you have forgotten something, as per usual.

 

* * *

 

“I was thinking of sealing all the bijuu and using them as offerings. What do you think?” Hashirama asks, not noticing Mito’s sudden distress.

You fall silent and come to the realisation once again that to the humans, bijuu were nothing more than unfeeling monsters.

“If…” You start shakily and breathe deeply to calm down from the shock and anger that you rarely ever feel.

“If you do that…” You say and stop. You do not use threats; it is not part of your character.

“If you do that, I will never forgive you.” Character be damned. You watched the bijuu siblings be created, you watched them grow up and mature. You will be damned if you let Hagoromo’s legacies be treated as nothing more than objects to be gifted.

“Huh?” Hashirama looks at you, or rather, to where he thinks you are.

“The bijuu are mine. You do not get to have them!” You hiss and drift out, letting your anger simmer.

Conflicting feelings, fiercer than what you’ve ever felt clash in your mind, leaving you gasping for air that you don’t need. It hurts, you realise, and you start to struggle to tear them away. How long had it been since you last had to deal with such emotions? You question yourself as you think of two little boys running happily amongst the grass plains.

The image- memories of Hamura and Hagoromo as little children had always been soothing, and even now, that had not changed.

A part of you tells you that you’re clinging too tight to the past, but you push it aside.

You have no name and no body to call your own. You are just a lost soul floating about in a world that cannot see you. The past is all you have. You tell yourself that, and somehow, the feeling of discontent grows.

You look up and find yourself standing on a mountain. You slowly sit down, and before you know it, you find warm tears rolling down your cheeks. You wipe one of your cheeks, but the tears continue to flow. You hadn’t cried since Hamura’s death, an event that happened centuries ago.

You wonder why you are here in this world that does not care.

As usual, you have no answer.

 

* * *

“Sorry nee-chan.” Hashirama apologises, although you can clearly see that he does not understand your anger.

“…Leave the bijuu alone.” You say, feeling weary. “They are not prizes.”

Hashirama nods, but there is confusion and slight displeasure in his eyes.

You wish that you could die.

 

* * *

 

Konoha grows and prospers. You sit on the mountain, where Hashirama’s head has been carved, and watch the villagers move about.

For a fleeting moment, you want to be amongst them, living out their lives uncaring of everything but their petty troubles.

You are apathetic to those around you and you know that. There was a reason why humans were not meant to be immortal. You glance down at your translucent arms and wonder if you are still human or if the idea of being human was just a delusion of yours. It had been too long- you aren’t sure of your past life anymore.

You hear footsteps of someone and glance behind you to look at the intruder.

A messy raven-haired man sits down. You shift over so that he wouldn’t sit on you by accident.

He stares down at the village with a look that you would describe as melancholy.

You recognise the man as Hashirama’s proclaimed best friend.

You stay there for a few moments, before you stand and float off the mountain.

_There is nothing to be said or done_.

 

* * *

 

You stand behind Tobirama and watch in fascination as the white-haired man inscribes another seal on the paper.

You watch and you think.

Tobirama is a genius, that is something that you acknowledge. But you watched the first seal master- Hamura. You watched him create the first seals in the world, and it was you whom he explained the theories to.

What Tobirama was making… It was so incredibly captivating, yet dangerous.

You shudder, but continue to watch him create a seal that had the potential to drag out people from the afterlife. You absently wonder if the same had been done to you.

When nothing but a corpse turns up, you close your eyes, feeling relief and disappointment at the same time.

You float closer to look at the seal. There were symbols that clashed with each other. The yin and yang wasn’t proportionate.

‘ _A life for a life_.’ You think and float away. That was how the world had always been. Clan, status and power didn’t matter when it came to death.

You wonder why you were the exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the long wait. RL got really troublesome and I had no time to write.


	4. Chapter 4

Years pass by once more.

The shinobi world is in war once again.

You frown when you hear the news, feeling nothing but disdain.

Mito smiles at you weakly, determining your thoughts.

“Peace… It’s not so simple, is it?” She asks.

“What is peace?” You ask her in return.

She doesn’t answer, but the downwards tilt of her lips tells you everything.

 

* * *

 

Hashirama dies, at the hands of the one he calls his best friend.

You watch as Madara is dragged away by a plant-like man. You hesitate, unsure if you should stay by Hashirama’s side or if you should follow the anomaly.

You eventually decide on the latter, with a soft ‘goodbye’ on your lips.

Hashirama smiles and when you glance at him, he has stilled.

You shake your head almost sadly, but plod onwards.

You hear the plant-man preach to Madara about placing the world in a genjutsu, and you frown. How did the plant-man know about Kaguya?

You feel sick, a feeling that you had felt only once when you had found yourself in this world.

“A conspiracy…” You whisper softly. With great effort, Madara turns his head to look at where you should be.

The plant-man, Zetsu, doesn’t see you. For once, you are grateful for that.

There’s something _off_ about him, but you just don’t know what.

“Kaguya never had that power.” You say, though it feels like you are pleading. For what, you have no idea, but you just know that you have to stop this.

“You can’t believe him.”

Madara turns away, and you feel like you have failed your unknown mission.

You bow your head. “I hope you realise that you can’t give the world something that you’ve never known.” You say almost bitterly and float out of the cave. You don’t bother to turn around to look for the man’s reaction- you’ve never cared.

The bad feeling doesn’t leave you, not until you’re far far away from the place where Hashirama’s life had ended.

You don’t mourn; you didn’t expect to. He was just a passing acquaintance.

You ignore how the lump in your throat that you can’t quite swallow tells you otherwise.

 

* * *

 

“Star light. Star bright…” You trail off, the words in your mind blurring together, the rest of the words forgotten.

You look down at your hands, and wish to sit down on the front porch of Hagoromo’s house, with the Biju siblings, the two brothers and their respective families.

You think back to a time when you lay on a grassy meadow, looking up at the starry, moonless night, with two unique little boys with you, telling them stories from your life _before_.

It feels surreal, and so incredibly sad.

“Nee-chan?” Mito interrupts your thoughts.

“Yes?” You ask.

“…I’m sorry nee-chan. I might not be able to keep my promise.” She says.

You pause, trying to remember which promise she was referring to, then you realise that she had a hand on the seal. The seal that trapped Kurama.

You give her a look. She flinches.

“I’m sorry. But with the war, and the other villages making their own jinchuriki, I can’t afford to let Konoha go without Kyuubi’s power. I can’t.”

“…Maybe if you tried talking to the Kyuubi like he was sentient, then maybe it would be different.” You say, feeling betrayed and disappointed.

Mito doesn’t answer.

You leave the room.

How had things gotten so bad this fast? You ask yourself, wondering how Kurama must feel.

You close your eyes and wish for death to take you, as it should have hundreds of years ago.

 

* * *

 

_What’s love?_

_Love is painful._

_Why?_

_Because when you love too much, and when others don’t love the same way you do, you’ll get hurt, and the pain never goes away._

_Were you hurt before?_

_One day, you’ll know what I mean. But I hope that you won’t let that pain deter you from your path._

You wonder if that conversation was meant for you as much as it was meant for Hagoromo’s children.

You feel the keening sense of hurt and wonder how you were supposed to deal with such negative emotions without anything to cling onto.

You didn’t have Hagoromo and Hamura anymore.

You loved them too much, and you look at yourself now, unable to love another like you had loved them.

“I’m dead.” You say out loud. “I’m dead.”

Death is meant to have a sense of finality. It doesn’t seem to hold true for you. You dread to let yourself be hurt by the natural elements, because what if you get hurt, and you remain in pain for the rest of eternity?

You are a coward.

You close your eyes and laugh, no matter the tears that drop from your eyes, no matter how your voice is cracked and you just want to wail.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

_You wonder if it ever did._

You feel so tired. You want to go to sleep and never wake up. It’s a familiar feeling. You wonder if you ever felt like this when you were still alive- if you were ever alive.

The non-existent weight on your shoulders feel so heavy, and you wonder why. You are dead, your burdens should all have been taken along with your physical body, along with your life. What’s the point of death, the point of believing in an afterlife if this was what you had to go through?

_Why…_

You look down at the village, obscured amongst the trees

_…Can’t…_

In this moment, you feel like a god that has lost all of their followers.

_…I just die?_

What’s the point of existence?

_Immortality is wasted on those who have never wanted it._

 

* * *

 

That night, you lay on the grass field full of budding plants, and dream of a world of concrete, of dullness and of wasted time. In that world lived an ordinary girl who never wanted to live forever.

You wake up and find the name of the girl on your lips, but you just can’t quite recall what it is.

You look up to the sky and wonder if the dream- a memory- had been a gift.

You smile, feeling a lot better once more. What happens to this world is none of your concern- this wasn’t your world anyway.

You feel selfish, but you have had enough time of being generous to appreciate the feeling of letting go all your responsibilities.

It doesn’t last- that feeling of euphoric freedom leaves you as quickly as it had come. The feeling of responsibility once again weighs on your shoulders. You regret, you regret so much, but the memories are merely fleeting. They seem to slip through your fingers, until all you have left are jagged edges of blurry glass.

You curse yourself for this immortality that you never wanted.

 

* * *

 

Mito dies. She doesn’t keep her promise. But she tells her successor about you and requests that you be treated with the utmost respect.

Kushina is… different.

She is hyper, judgemental, temperamental and kind.

You stare at the redhead. She ignores you in favour of ramen.

“Hello.” You say once again.

She grunts once in response and continues to slurp.

“…” You tilt your head, unsure of how to respond.

“I’ll just go then.” You say quietly and float out of the ramen shop.

There is a tinge of amusement and disgust and it quickly fades away. You whisper your apologies and pretend that you don’t feel as useless as you know you are.

 

* * *

 

“Ignore them. They’ll eventually get kicked out or get sent out as cannon fodder.” You tell Kushina impassively.

“You are pretty enough.” You whisper to her and hold out a hand. The redhead takes it and pulls herself up.

“Thanks, dattebane.” Kushina muttered, sitting on the ground sulkily.

“…Those who hurt others for their own personal satisfaction will eventually get their due.” You say, thinking back to Hagoromo and Hamura’s insistence on world peace. It had been enlightening, and perhaps you had enjoyed it- you don’t quite remember anymore.

 

* * *

 

You don’t remember much anymore. But you think that you were once human, and that you existed in a world that prized knowledge more than anything.

You look at your hands now and think that maybe you’re not a human anymore.

You let the stray kunai pass through you harmlessly and wonder why you are such a coward for wanting to die and yet you can’t bear to take your own life.

“Wanting to live means that you’re strong.” Hamura had said so to you once.

“I’m so tired, Hamura. I just want to sleep and never wake up.” That had been your reply.

“Then sleep. But know that there are people in this world who would miss you.” He had said, gesturing to his brother, their children and the biju siblings playing about in the forest.

“They won’t remember me. You’ll just forget.” You whispered, in a rare show of weakness.

“We won’t. Promise.” He held your hands and smiled gently at you.

‘I don’t believe you.’ You thought, but didn’t say.

‘I just want to…’ You start, but don’t finish.

_I just want to go home._

That was not the first time that you had thought that, and it wouldn’t be the last time either.

_But where’s home?_


	5. Chapter 5

Kushina is kidnapped and rescued.

You sit at the foot of her bed. She stares at you.

“Why didn’t you help me?” She asks.

“How?” You stare at your intangible fingers.

“You could have picked up a weapon and stabbed him!” Kushina shouts.

Yes, you could have, but…

“Morality.” You eventually say. “I have yet to give up my morality.”

You have yet to experience the sensation of having one’s death lie personally on your shoulders.

“I am an immortal, and I refuse to have the weight of someone’s death on my mind for the rest of eternity.” You say.

Kushina is still glaring at you, like she can’t understand why you would feel guilty about death.

You realise with a jolt that she never knew of a time when there was no need for death, when a warrior, a protector never had to kill another of his own kind.

That time had come and gone with Hagoromo and Hamura. 

* * *

 

You walk onwards, just like before, and leave this accursed village behind.

You do not remember how long you have walked alone, but you soon find yourself in a land settled between the mountains made of rock.

The people walk past you, as is usual, and you effortlessly walk past the gate.

“Hey! You can’t just do that!” Someone shouts.

You continue your steady pace. After all, no one can see you, right?

A hand clamps down on your shoulder.

You blink and turn around.

“You can see me?” You ask, looking at the redheaded young man.

There is a pulse. You recognise the energy to be Son Goku, the Yonbi.

The man staggers back in shock. You smile slightly, a tendril of amusement creeping up within you.

“No one can see me.” You explain, floating back to let someone walk through you. “Shall we talk elsewhere?”

* * *

 

“So this is Iwa.” You murmur, looking at the bustling marketplace.

“Why am I the only one who can see you?” The redhead demands brusquely.

“Because of the Yonbi. Only the bijuu, and consequently, their hosts can see me.” You leave out that Hagoromo and Hamura could do so as well.

There is no need for him to know your past. Not anymore.

* * *

 

The redhead’s name is Roshi, and he is young, filled to the brim with vigour and spite.

Once upon a time, you would have gotten along well with him.

Now, you trail after him with reluctance and fatigue, through the battlefield left behind by their predecessors, prime and ready for yet another senseless war.

* * *

 

He gears himself to attack. For a moment, you see flashes of children lying dead in front of the old house you used to live in.

“Must you do this?” You utter.

“This is war.” He tells you, eyes hard and tired.

“I hate war.” You say. Because this was not what Hagoromo wanted. This was not what Hamura had died for. This was not what Indra and Asura were supposed to start.

You remember days of peace where you sat on that tree stump recalling stories from _before_ , remember feeling that sense of serenity that you can hardly find anymore, not since you lost the family you once had. Not since you started mingling with all these… humans.

“I hate humans.” You murmur to yourself. Son Goku sends out a pulse of agreement from the seal he is trapped in. You might not know what hate felt like anymore, but this strong sense of dislike and apathy you feel must be what it used to be.

Roshi attacks. The village burns. You close your eyes and fade away, away from this senseless carnage, away from the charred bodies you would have otherwise seen.

The image of Hagoromo’s house in disarray had been burnt into your mind.

You flee.

It seems to be all that you are good for.

* * *

 

You run and run for several moons until you run out of the strange adrenaline that had seemed to spur your movements.

You look around and find yourself surrounded by dunes of dark-golden sand that seemed to meet the wide endless sky in its vastness.

A chill wind blows, and you slowly sink into the heavy sand, alone in this huge foreign world once more.

* * *

 

You lie on the sand and watch the stars come and go multiple times, trying to recall the various stories of the constellations.

You raise a hand and slowly trace each pattern, reciting their respective ‘origins’.

When you are done, you close your eyes with a contented smile.

Your consciousness weighs heavily on your mind, and you drift off once again.

* * *

 

When you wake, you find yourself trapped. Your limbs are heavy and darkness surrounds you.

 There is a sense of distant panic, and you go intangible, floating upwards, until you can see light once again.

You look down and realise that you had been trapped beneath a thick layer of sand.

“How silly.” You say out loud, with a vague air of amusement.

You look around you and leave the land of gold behind as you start your travels once again.

* * *

 

A tainted pulse of chakra tinges in the air, and you run towards it.

You stop at a cave apprehensively, and you step in.

* * *

 

“Mother ate the god fruit to save her people, but it consumed her instead.” Hagoromo had told you.

Back then, you had thought of the ethereal white-haired princess who sat, listening wordlessly, who disappeared the moment the moon rose in the sky.

All she knew of you was your voice. You never knew hers.

* * *

 

You walk in, and ignore the way your skin crawls. The tainted chakra makes you feel sick to the bones, but for reasons you have yet to understand, you feel a compulsion to move onwards.

There is something you must do, and that is why you were sent here.

With that in mind, you float, lifting yourself off the earth, and proceed forward.

You stop yet again, and stare at an old man clinging desperately to life.

* * *

 

“What happened to the young boy who wanted to create a new era without war?” You find yourself asking.

“That boy died.” The old man spits out.

You feel like you have failed yet again.

* * *

 

“Who are you talking to?" A plant-man asks, and you look at a monster that is half white-half black.

“To Hashirama.” Madara says, and you can’t tell if he is truly lying.

“…Right.” The plant-man says and leaves, presumably to fulfil whatever orders he had been given.

“He lies.” You say yet again. “He knows nothing about the God Tree. He wasn’t there!”

“I will place the world in an eternal genjutsu, and I will see Hashirama again.” Madara rasps.

“There is no such thing as an eternal genjutsu!” You say, a feeling of frustration that you hadn’t felt in ages rising within you.

Madara stills and remains silent for a long time.

You wonder if he has died.

Then, he raises his head and looks at you- no, through you.

“There has to be.”

You feel a chill run through you.

“I was there when Hagoromo sealed his mother into the moon. Kaguya was many things, a goddess even, but I don’t think she knew what peace was.” You say, and remember acutely the white-haired beauty who had to choose between eating a forbidden fruit and letting her kingdom fall.

She chose the former and became a demon.

Sometimes, you wonder if she would have chosen the latter if she knew what she would have become.

You wait, and receive no answer for your efforts.

“All she knew of peace,” You say, turning to leave until a burst of realisation stops you mid-word.

You remember the princess sitting nearby, listening to your tales.

You remember her watching her children with a fond, yet distant gaze, looking at them as if she had no idea what to do with her two sons, as if she knew that she would never be able to give them the childhood they deserved to have.

You remember her closing her pretty red eyes and listening to you tell your tales, looking as if she was finally at peace.

You remember that-

“All she knew of peace… Was through me.” You whisper breathlessly.

You don’t wait for Madara to respond.

You flee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the only thing I can say is that real life has been tough on me.  
> I gave up on writing for a short while until I felt the urge to vent out all my emotions, so here's the product of that.


	6. Chapter 6

Your panic quells, and you come to a stop at a small village, cushioned by blades of tall grass.

Everywhere you walk, grass towers over you, and you soon give up all pretence at walking, preferring to float through the air instead.

A woman with striking red hair catches your eye, and in a fit of impulsiveness, you follow her.

She is barely an adult and so much like Mito that it fills you with regret and dispassionate hate for the promise that the late princess was unable to fulfil.

“The wind seems to be in your favour today.” An old man laughs.

“I suppose it is.” The woman says wistfully, and accepts the bento set.

The man waves her off, and you trail after her.

You study her, and realise that her arms are covered in bite marks.

It is something that is very familiar to you, and brings about recent memories, from when you were still with Mito.

‘The Uzumaki have great vitality, and a few of my kin have the ability to heal with our blood.’ Mito had told you once before, a young girl bragging with the intention of impressing.

You remember that those of her kin had cut themselves open and let the blood drain into a bowl, which was then mixed into food for the warriors.

‘Blood-thirsty indeed.’ You had thought and shied away in disgust

* * *

 

You stay in this village until the grass turns brown in response to the cooling air. You say not one word to the Uzumaki woman, and you leave, following the direction of the wind.

The wind changes ever so often, and you follow its every breath, running around in circles but still getting somewhere.

Your toes are touched by the spray of sea foam and you stop, finding yourself in a misty beach.

You turn towards the sounds of civilisation, and you walk, your feet leaving behind footprints that would soon be washed away by the tides.

* * *

 

“That man just walked through you.” A voice says from behind you.

You turn your head and see a young lanky boy.

You recognise him, or rather, the bijuu within him instantly.

“Saiken!” You say, and the boy stops. He looks at you with an odd expression when the bijuu within his seal sends out a happy pulse of chakra.

It seems to be the way you are acquainted with the jinchuriki, you think, as you float alongside the boy.

* * *

 

 The effects of war can still be seen, judging by the ragged appearances of the people.

Utakata is stubborn to a fault, and so much like Mito and Kushina and Roshi, and you wonder if they all share the same blood.

You wander around the area aimlessly, lost in the thick mist until Utakata finds you months later, bitter and in self-exile.

Saiken is whining, and for someone as happy as him, that’s usually not a good sign.

“What happened?” You ask.

He recounts the story of betrayal and leads you through a hazy forest, presumably away from the village.

You listen, and don’t reply.

All this seems so familiar.

Everywhere you go, history repeats itself, and it is not a pleasant feeling.

* * *

 

You stop, right by the sandy beach that you had been in months ago.

A stretch of water faces you and roars at you with its mighty tides.

You stand in the coarse sand and let the water drag you further towards the ocean.

 

Inexplicably, a tale comes to mind. One of a boy who lived thousands of years waiting for his soulmate. And yet, the first words he hears are: You are a monster.

Trapped in grief, the boy threw himself into the ocean, and there, he lived and died and lived again for many cycles to come.

“Immortals walk the earth.” You say eventually, after recounting the story out loud. “And you never know who it is that lives alongside you.”

“Monsters.” Utakata replies, facing the horizon. “We are all surrounded by monsters who disguise themselves as saints.”

“What about the saints that look like monsters?” You ask absently.

Utakata remains silent.

You hear him murmur something, but it is drowned out by the rumbling of the waves.

Not for the first time, you feel like this world truly too big, overwhelming in its size and force. It survived the God Tree, the invasion of chakra, and who knows what else.

You close your eyes and lie on the sand.

“You’re leaving behind imprints.” Utakata tells you softly, his gaze never turning from where the sea met the sky.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” You say.

Making a mark, no matter how small, on this huge world…

You think you might like the thought of that.

* * *

 

Utakata meets a Uzumaki seal master, and the both of you part ways once again.

The both of them head over a shaky bridge, and you turn your eyes to the ocean, wondering if perhaps, there was something that the young boy had seen in it.

* * *

 

There’s something beautiful and yet petrifying about being alone in the middle of the ocean.

Wherever you look, water greets you, sunlight glinting off its surface and blinding you.

It is wide and huge and frightening, and for once, you realise what the people must have felt when exposed to forces of nature known as the biju.

It is terribly wonderful, and you float on, unsure of when you’ll make it to land. But you do, because even something as wide as the sea must have an end.

* * *

 

You step onto a sandy shore and walk towards the mainland.

The forest that approaches looks strangely familiar, and it is not until you are in front of the huge gate that you realise that you’ve returned back to Hashirama’s village.

You walk through the closed gates and towards Mito’s house.

“Hey!” Someone shouts, and a hand touches your shoulder.

You startle and go intangible, turning around just as the hand is retracted.

“Kushina.” You say as greeting. “You’ve grown.”

The redhead grins, wide and ferocious, just like the jinchuriki you’ve met thus far.

“Yeah. I got a boyfriend too.” She tells you in a hushed whisper.

“Mn.” You hum and follow her towards her apartment, her chatter fading into a comfortable white noise.

* * *

 

You think you had the ability to love, once.

Perhaps it was before you became stuck in this meaningless plane of reality, perhaps it was before Hagoromo and Hamura had died, perhaps it was before Asura and Indra started something irreversible and unfathomable, but you have this feeling that you once loved someone like the way Kushina loves Minato.

She looks at him like he is a hurricane that once swept her from her dull life into something splashed with vibrant colour, the way she likes it.

The same could be said of the other party.

He sneaks peeks at her when he thinks no one was looking, as if she is a beautiful, ethereal volcano ready to erupt at any moment, and that he is a particularly brave (or stupid) sightseer that does not want to miss the moment.

He treats her like a goddess, and the smallest part of you that still _cares_ , approves.

* * *

 

Kushina’s boyfriend doesn’t know that you are intruding on their privately domestic moments, and neither you nor Kushina bother to inform him.

You situate yourself on the couch in the living room of their homely apartment.

The atmosphere is warm, and for a moment you forget yourself in your dreams of what must be past memories.

The door creaks open, and you snap your eyes open, the moment lost.

You feel a sense of homesickness and longing for the place that you once thought of as home.

But you don’t have a home anymore. You don’t remember what it was, and you don’t know how to get back.

In the end, you are constantly in a state of hiraeth.

* * *

 

“Sensei…? Is there a ghost in your apartment?” A boy with orange goggles calls out nervously, staring right at you. No, at where you are sitting.

You stand up and remember that though living beings could not see you, they could see the objects that you interact with.

“Ah! It moved!” The boy shouts, and is pushed aside by a boy with silver hair.

“Don’t be stupid. Ghosts don’t exist.” He scowls, but pauses as he steps foot in the apartment. He sniffs around with a strange look on his face.

“See? There’s something, right?” Goggles, as you dub him, shouts.

“Is it a nice ghost?” A girl asks, squeezing her way inside.

“I think so, I mean if sensei’s apartment was haunted, he wouldn’t still be here.” Goggles says.

“I don’t think he knew it was haunted.” Silver mutters.

“I don’t think there are ghosts in my apartment, children.” Kushina’s boyfriend appears and says with a laugh. A look of consternation appears on his face as he looks around suspiciously. “I think…”

“There’s one actually.” Kushina steps into the room and says.

“WHAT?” The children and her boyfriend all exclaim.

Kushina laughs and heads for the kitchen, ignoring her boyfriend’s pleas of ‘please tell me you’re joking!’ and ‘Kushina, stop scaring me!’

 

You remain standing at the spot in front of the couch, and watch as the children dutifully follow the blond man into the kitchen.

The girl walks through you and shivers.

She looks around, sees nothing, frowns, and resumes her pace.

You close your eyes and breath out, slow and tired.

* * *

 

 “One day, I’ll have a baby and I want you to be there.” Kushina tells you in a low whisper.

“I won’t know if I’ll be in time.” You reply, thinking about that burnt house with the remains of the dead scattered around it. You had been too late.

You were always too late.

* * *

 

You leave once again.

Kushina sees you off with a look not of understanding, but of pity.

You don’t quite understand her either.

* * *

 

The world changes from season to season, and the remnants of the war have finally calmed.

You find yourself once again in the ethereal land of golden grains, and trudge onwards, through the endless hills of sand.

It is beautiful, but you are lost. Had you been still human, you would have undoubtedly died by now.

You trudge on, your bare feet leaving behind footprints on the scorching sand.


	7. Chapter 7

"Who's there?" Someone shouts.

You still, as do the trail of footprints that followed you.

"Can you see me?" You ask tentatively.

"Show yourself!" The figure in front of you, obscured by the setting sun, snarls.

"I suppose not." You sigh and continue your pace.

The figure raises a hand and throws a kunai at you. You let it pass through you harmlessly, your toes phasing through fine grains of sand.

After a moment of indecision, you start floating above the ground.

"Why are you out here alone?" You ask the person who cannot hear you.

He remains rooted to the spot, wary and unnerved.

At that moment, a cool wind blows, coincidentally shifting the sand to cover the footprints you left behind.

The man stares at the spot where your footprints were.

"I must be going insane." He mutters and shakes his head.

He sits down between the two sand dunes and for a moment, you think that he might lie down.

He doesn't, for he isn't you, and unlike you, he evidently doesn't have time to spare.

He immediately rises a few moments later and runs, leaving you behind and alone once more.

You do not know who he is, but the urge to follow him is there. The shifting grains however, mask his footprints, and you look at his rapidly retreating silhouette, wondering just what life would be like if you could be seen by the world.

* * *

 

"I want to go home." You say to no one in particular.

The wind blows at you in response.

You are left alone in solitude, away from people- disgusting, horrid people who would hurt others for their own gain.

It hurts, the keening sense of ever-present loss.

But just like centuries - if not millennia- ago, you've gotten used to it.

You like being alone, you find. But humans are social creatures in the end, and you were still once human.

(You think you are going insane, all by yourself. But the wounds that have slowly healed and have yet to be reopened more than make up for it.)

 

The thing about being an immortal is that you constantly experience things- history, and sometimes, you forget whatever it was in the past.

You don't want to forget the past, so you surrender the present to the void of the forgotten.

You forgot that there are some things which are not meant to be forgotten.

* * *

 

You walk and walk, across molten gold and freezing sapphires. The emeralds hang from their branches, shaking from your every movement. You step across a mountain of dull diamonds, and you walk, never stopping- because you have never stopped for anyone, not really.

You are a ghost in this world, but you are still free, and you will not have your freedom snatched away.

You stop in a quaint little village, with paper lanterns glowing red in the dark lining the streets. An ominous glow is cast on the surprisingly smooth asphalt road, and you follow it across a ravine and into a strange, ethereal, _lonely_ castle.

It is shielded by wind and a fog that never goes away, and you let your feet float off the ground, heading towards the castle.

You near, and you see a castle painted in colours of red and brown and green and you feel a sense of deja vu.

You shake the odd feeling off, and walk inside.

It is clean and well taken care of. But it is empty and silent, a place that is merely a husk of what once used to be a home.

You wonder if the place you once called a home looks much like this as well.

Deja vu itches at the back of your mind, telling you that you've forgotten something, but for the life of you, you just cannot place what it is.

So you walk on, just like always.

* * *

 

"Hello." Someone says, in a soft whisper, like a shy child would to a stranger.

"Hello." You reply cautiously. A young woman stands in front of you, facing the open window.

She doesn't reply, and you float closer.

"Who are you? I don't get much visitors here." The woman says after a while. Her eyes are clouded over, and seemingly unfocused.

_Blind._ You realise.

"No one." You sigh. "I am no one."

 

For someone who cannot see nor hear you, the woman seems to be able to sense your presence just fine.

"Sometimes, I feel as though losing my sight has made me see things more clearly, ironic enough." She says, laughing.

You nod once, twice.

She smiles and sips at her tea.

"Thank you for accompanying me. It gets lonely all by myself here." She murmurs.

You understand, for haven't you been alone all this while?

Suddenly, she breaks out into coughs. The handkerchief used to cover her mouth comes away stained with blood, and you realise just why this castle was empty.

"I'm afraid I don't have long to live." She tells you weakly.

"And I'm afraid that I have far too long a life ahead of me." You say, drawing out what little vestiges of sadness you still have.

 

The sickness took away her family and her eyes.

"I sent the servants away so that they wouldn't fall prey to it as well." The woman confided.

If she wonders why you are still there, unafraid of catching this sickness, she doesn't voice it.

"I'm already dead." You say, and feel a bitter sense of what must be regret churn within you.

You wish that she could hear you, that you could reassure her.

But your attempt to pat her on the back only garners you a hand through her spine and a full-body shiver from her.

 

The young woman, despite her apparent courage in the face of a lonely death, is still someone who has been shoved into a role of responsibility. She can take care of herself, but as time goes on you realise that that is all she can do.

"What can I do all by myself? I am unable to read and write. All I can do is stare out the window and listen to the birds and the crickets, and feel the same cold wind." She admits after some prodding.

"I am glad you are here." She says after a sip of hot tea.

You feel your lips tug upwards and refill her cup for her.

The prospect of staying here for the rest of your life appeals to you. But deep down, you remember the promises you made and the fragility of human life, especially one so sick and frail.

 

"It appears that it is time to finally let ghosts lie." The woman tells you, her face pale and her voice trembling.

She lies on a soft, satin bed, and smiles.

Slowly, her eyes flutter shut. Her breathing becomes shallower and shallower, until all is still.

You feel lost, like you had so long before, the moment when you realised that you had lost your boys.

She was a good friend, even though she couldn't hear you.

You wish that you knew her name, for calling her 'Blind Princess' would only sully her memory. She was more than just a princess, and she was more than just someone who couldn't see.

You stay there until her body turns cold, and you turn your back behind on this beautiful, cursed mansion, leaving behind that short moment of peace and serenity.

Through the tinges of a pained heart, you think you may have room in your heart for humanity once more. 

* * *

Hundreds of years you had spent in this once-foreign world. Thousands of miles you had walked through these strange, distant lands.

It took a dying girl, desperately kind even through her pain, to make you remember those times with Hagoromo and Hamura.

She doesn't hear you, cannot feel you and will never see you.

But she was enough to teach you to let go.

You don't want to forget her, the beautiful strong woman who chipped away at the stone that had enveloped your heart.

So grudgingly, you let snippets of the past slip past your fingers as you replace them with the memories of this young noble princess that had captured your heart and held it gently within her frail and gentle hands.

You think that you are finally learning how to move on, and you hope, desperately that Hagoromo and Hamura would forgive you.

_"There is no shame in learning to let go."_

 


	8. Chapter 8

You walk through the villages and the worn-down paths with lighter steps despite a heavier heart.

For the first time in a long while, you are reminded of what emotions used to feel like: vibrant, unpredictable and brimming with a pang that stabs right through your chest.

You might not need to breathe anymore, but you can. And right now, breathing feels so hard. It feels like there are unseen needles stabbing right at your heart, an invisible python constricting around your torso, crushing it.

You continue your pace, never-stopping.

But you are hurting, and the emotions that had dulled with time have revived in a blaze of flaming glory.

Your vision blurs and you are forced to still. You bury your head in your hands and you cry tears of anger, of hurt, of sorrow that you had bottled up within you ever since Hagoromo's death.

When you finally look up, the previously darkened forest now glows red in the face of the rising sun.

You feel lighter, but the pain is still there. You know that it doesn't matter, for it will eventually go away with time. You have time. Too much of it.

You close your eyes and touch the tear tracks on your cheeks.

You are tired, and there is no way for you to rest.

So you stand up and walk forwards, because that is the only path of action that you can take.

* * *

 

You find yourself back in the land of dust and gold, walking the sands of ages long past, stretching from horizon to horizon.

The blue sky darkens into a molten gold not unlike the hue of the shifting grains.

You wonder what once lay on this land.

If you had walked here once, thousands of years ago, you have no recollection of it, of its origins, before the harsh sunlight dried up all the precious life-water and its inhabitants were made to move.

But as you stand in the middle of nowhere, without any indication as to where exactly you are going, you wonder why you always feel so at peace here.

For a place that is surrounded by sand as far as the eye can see, the desert is where you find yourself following an unseen path.

It seems to be the crossway for your future, and you find that you don't mind that the slightest.

 

The golden sky is partially obstructed by clouds, and right now, it reminds you of The Golden Dawn.

"Gold..." You murmur, thoughts of stories about Golden Apples, Golden Fleeces and such coming to mind.

You wonder what made gold so valuable, that people would base mythology and legends off them. What was so special about this soft, weak metal?

You don't find out the answer, and soon, your mind is empty, unclouded of such thoughts as you stare up at the starry night.

You close your eyes and wish that you could sleep without ever waking up.

* * *

 

You are in the forests again.

You still and wonder just what it is about this place that keeps bringing you back to it.

You voice your question out loud, and you are met by the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.

* * *

 

Everyone has a candle that represents their life. The moment they're born, the candle is lit up on fire. Some have their fires extinguished before the candle wax runs out. Some live a long life, their fire only running out when all the wax is melted.

What does it say about someone when they continue to live on even after their lifeline has long since been cut?

Surrounded by people who can't see or hear you. Living an existence devoid of human touch. Death is to you a long-lost friend that you can't wait to meet again. Yet, you will not kill yourself, like the coward you are. You can only wait for the day when you will be able to unconsciously pass on to the afterlife.

...

You hope that death will claim you someday.

* * *

 

You walk aimlessly.

The darkness doesn't faze you, you have no need for rest or shelter, food and water are the least of your concerns.

The forest soon runs out of room for you to wander.

The trees open up to reveal a small fishing village.

You pause at the fringes of the land, watching the villagers go about their daily lives.

You wonder if you had been that happy once upon a time.

A child treks up the hill, towards where you are. You smile briefly, the action foreign, and you turn away, meandering through the twists and turns of the forest path that only you can see.

 

You end up sitting by the rocky bluffs, the sea foam brushing against your toes. The landscape may have changed, but you recognise the geography, the edges of the lands.

This was the place where your boys once resided.

Briefly, you wonder if this would make a good story akin to the ones you once told your two children.

You've forgotten their faces and their voices. Their names still bring a sense of melancholy and you think that given decades more, you might forget them too.

You might have made your peace, but you don't want to forget.

So why are you still waiting for the ending that might never come?

 

_Deep within the forests, surrounded by shadows cast down by the tall trees, there is a woman who is so tired of living._

_She doesn't age. She can't die peacefully._

You grasp a sharp stick and hold it to your throat.

You hesitate.

The stick falls.

No. You won't end your story here. Not like this.

You walk away, still a wandering spirit in this ignorant world.

There is nothing left here for you. So why do you still cling so desperately to a false life?

* * *

 

You return back to Konoha and see Kushina carrying a small child.

"This is Naruto!" Kushina tells you, beaming.

You look down at the toddler impassively.

"Say hello." Kushina tells you with endless exasperation.

"He won't even hear it." You say. Naruto gurgles and reaches out a hand, swiping it through you.

You still, as do Kushina.

"He- he heard you, right?" Kushina hazards a guess.

"Naruto." You say. The toddler looks up and gazes around in confusion.

Well.

"So much like Asura and Hashirama." You murmur.

The toddler claps his hand. Kushina just looks at you with confusion evident in her gaze. You don't bother explaining- it happened too far in the past anyway.

* * *

 

You end up in a village where dark clouds gather above, almost like an ominous warning.

You walk through the gates easily, the guards unaware of your presence, as is usual.

The rain is light but never-ending. You briefly wonder if the citizens had ever seen the sun.

You walk through the streets, and though the market bustles with life, it feels constricting.

You exhale and do not inhale. Breathing had long since been habit of yours, a link to whatever remnants of your life you still remember from _before_.

Now, you feel lucky that you do not need to breathe.

The rain slows to a light drizzle. All you see are little frogs that have never stepped out of their well.

You walk away, gliding through several buildings in your haste to get as far as possible from the oppressing atmosphere.

You take in a deep breath, drawing in air that you do not need.

You look up. The clouds hang over you like a leaky umbrella on a cold stormy night.

You can't stand it.

It brings back flashbacks of a rainy evening where something horrible happened. But for the life of you, you just can't remember what.

You walk towards the gates, away from the dreary, humid village and towards the bright, scorching sun.

No matter how much the light hurts you, at least you won't feel the same crippling fear you did underneath the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, the protag has never been out in a crowded place on rainy days. That's why this is the first time you'll see her react to it this strongly. As for why, can you guys guess?  
> She's been changing canon little by little, just by existing. You're only seeing the obvious changes now.


	9. Chapter 9

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a world hovering between peace and war.

Then, that girl died.

You think that you might just miss that world where things would have been simpler than they are now. But for the life of you, you just can’t remember that seemingly perfect world where there was no need for war, where training to be assassins was a horrible thing to do to a child.

Children had no place in a war.

Children should not be trained to be child soldiers.

The sense of discomfort grows.

You watch as children fight to kill.

This isn’t right.

Where are their protectors, their parents?

You look away as first blood is shed.

 _Coward_.

 

* * *

 

 

In a village, cold and dreary, rain cascades down and splatters onto the ground like an endless symphony.

You sit inside a small wooden cottage and turn your eyes away from the window, quelling your rising panic.

“How have you been?” You ask.

“You were right after all.” Roshi says.

He is older now. You can see streaks of grey in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes.

“I think, I’ve lived too long not to be.” You say delicately.

Roshi huffs and pours another cup of tea.

The aroma wafts over and you breathe it in, pushing away the scent of rainwater.

“You know the thing about being old? You stagnate.” Roshi says.

You don’t think he is talking about you.

“And?” You prompt.

“You become stuck in your beliefs until everything goes to hell but then it’ll be too late to do anything.” Roshi takes a sip of tea. His eyes aren’t focused on you, rather, it seems as though he is looking through you, stuck in a memory.

“That’s what the next generation is for.” You say softly, thinking of two boys who had brought about the revolution that their mother had promised but failed to bring. “Children are meant to be the hope of our futures.”

“Only if raised right.” Roshi snorts.

“No,” You say, distant memories of kids mingling with each other, with none of the prejudice that adults would have, “only if they are left alone. Children have always accepted the flaws of each other. It is who that raises them that changes them, for better or for worse.”

You pause, surprised by your own words. They are foreign, distinct in a way that reminds you of a place far away.

 _Home_.

Roshi raises the wooden cup in silent agreement.

The sound of the falling rain is soon washed out by quiet conversation.

 

* * *

 

 

You stay with Roshi for a while.

Roshi is old and tired. Retired shinobi generally are, even though Roshi is not yet an old man… He’s just tired of the world, much like you are.

But you- you haven’t aged a day.

It’s disconcerting, you think, as you drift alongside him.

Even after all these years, you still can’t help but wish to age alongside the people who can see you.

Immortality is an awfully lonely existence.

You are tired, but you don’t say a word of it. There’s no use- no one can truly understand the horrors of immortality until they’ve experienced it.

Life is such a cruel game. In the end… there’s no such thing as death.

 

* * *

 

 

You leave as you always do.

Roshi doesn’t say goodbye, as if hoping for another chance to meet again, even though you would likely never see him once more.

You walk and walk and walk, the moonbeams guiding you to a place that brings back a sense of melancholy and memories of two children who made you shed your bitter shell, who made you calm and relaxed and happy.

_Things that have long since passed will never happen again._

When you return to the place where the moon is brightest in the sky, there is yet another heavy weight on your shoulders, exhaustion and apathy piling up so high that you feel like you are about to collapse.

You’re burning, you realize. You’re burning up, set on fire, and it took you far too long to realize. There’s nothing you can do about now but live with the wounds that you’ve ignored for so long.

You kneel in the middle of the overgrown forest, your hands burrowing into the ground where Hamura’s grave once stood. It’s gone now. Everything’s gone.

You’ll always be the only constant in this cruel game.

You sit there for far too long, staring blankly at the muddy ground, at the remnants of the gravestone scattered around the area.

You don’t comprehend. You can’t comprehend.

_Humans were never meant to live for so long._

You’re forgetting; you can feel the memories fade away right in front of your eyes, just within your reach, taunting you like death always has.

“I don’t want to forget.” You whisper, feeling lost and alone like the child you had always been.

 

* * *

 

 

When you come to your senses, you find yourself covered in a layer of snow.

You stand up slowly, shaking the slush off your body and you wonder where you are.

 

* * *

 

 

You wander, like you always have.

The sun rises and sets with every day, with every rotation the world makes around its axis.

The sun bears down on you with like the weight of judgement, and you bury your feet in the scorching sand.

It’s comfortable, you think, as you build walls around yourself, fatigue wearing you down for far too long.

You sit there, partially buried in the pile of sand, and you watch as the sun sets and the world around you plunges into darkness, the cold quickly snatching away whatever warmth you had once felt.

You look up at the stars, recalling faint memories of stories you had once repeated to yourself over and over until the words would no longer come.

You phase through the sand and walk away.

You don’t want to think about what you’ve forgotten. It just makes it hurt all the more.

 

* * *

 

 

You float through trees, through steel gates and concrete buildings. People walk past you, through you, but you are too disconnected with the world to even care.

“Hey! It’s been a while!” A woman says.

You feel the familiar chakra of a biju, and you wonder how you could ever have forgotten.

 


End file.
